


Punish Me

by fatalchild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22771015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatalchild/pseuds/fatalchild
Summary: Lucifer is less than satisfied with Meg's performance in Carthage. He makes sure she knows exactly how disappointed he is.Written for the2019 Lucifer Advent
Relationships: Lucifer/Meg Masters
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Punish Me

The sky went dark over the city of Carthage, even the stars and moon blotted out by inky blackness. The earth shook and split apart, and the horseman of death clawed his way out of the chasm. It was Hell's first major victory in the coming war. Demons started celebrating. They lifted Lucifer's name up in prayers and songs and seized bodies across Earth to help in the ensuing havoc. Meg stayed still. She was the closest to the now holy site, but she didn't celebrate, and she didn't gloat. She didn't even move.

The flames had started to cool once the circle was broken, but they'd burned impossibly hot for that handful of minutes she lay across them. Meg's shirt was burnt black against her red, blistered skin. It was less than what she deserved. She had felt the angel's departure, and she knew it was because of her arrogance. More importantly, she knew Lucifer would be displeased. There was no pain worse than his displeasure, and Meg didn't know if she could tolerate the way he would look at her when she told him everything was her fault. 

Lucifer was never cruel to her. He gave her a long, cold stare before examining the wound across her stomach. He lifted the tattered fabric, and at a mere brush of his cool fingers, most of the burns receded. Meg understood. She would bear the rest as her mark of shame. 

"What happened?" Lucifer demanded.

"He mentioned Crowley." Meg looked at her shoes, the floor, the wall--anywhere but at Lucifer. "He said... I was defending you..."

"Is that so?" Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you know how long I was in that Cage? How rare it was for even a whisper to come through? I've been alone, and that was the only one of my kind I've even managed to speak to in--" Lucifer cut himself up, his nose crinkling with thinly repressed disgust. "You took that from me," he said, and all Meg could do was nod.

She followed him back to Hell and watched his back as he walked away. Lucifer had been mad before, but Meg was his favorite. She brought him information on the Winchesters. She issued orders to other demons on his behalf. She even brought him the blood that sustained his vessel. He would forgive her, she knew, but then one day turned to two, and two turned to three. Meg wasn't punished. She was just ignored, and that was worse. She had lived too close to God, and his absence was agony. 

Meg closed her eyes as she knocked on the door. There was a chance he'd send her away and a chance he'd say nothing at all, but Lucifer didn't do either. He let her in, and he watched her quietly while she shut the door and crossed the room to stand in front of him. 

"I'm sorry," Meg started, and Lucifer said nothing. "He struck a nerve, and it was selfish to let that compromise our mission."

Lucifer leaned back in his chair and lifted his chin as he examined her. "Is that all?"

"No." Meg licked her lips, but her mouth was impossibly dry, and her tongue scraped against her lips instead of soothing them. "I want you to punish me." Lucifer's eyes swept over her in quiet evaluation. "Please," she said again. "Punish me."

"Come here," Lucifer said, and Meg did. She stood by his chair and watched as he nodded at his legs. "Bend over."

Meg didn't move at first, surprise rather than disobedience, but when she moved close, he took her arm and pulled her across his lap. Meg knew what was happening in some distant, abstract sort of way, but the first strike to her backside made her jump from the sudden impact. The second hit was just as fast, as was the third, but by the fourth time, Lucifer's hand lingered over the curve of Meg's bottom. Her jeans should have deadened the sensation, but Lucifer hit hard, and his cool palm was almost soothing. Then he hit her again. 

With his fingers tracing her curves again, Meg wondered if Lucifer knew what he was doing. He must. It was too deliberate and too alluring, but aside from a few flitting rumors about Lilith, nobody knew of him ever taking a lover. The next time Lucifer hit her, his fingers dipped dangerously downwards. Meg didn't fluster. She didn't blush, but she could feel the heat of arousal growing between her legs. Lucifer's hand was wide, his fingers long, and each smack from his hand was powerful enough to send a ripple of sensation all the way to her core. Lucifer paused again, the next hit becoming something of a caress before Lucifer squeezed, kneading Meg's flesh between his fingers. Her lips fell open in a sigh as Lucifer cupped each cheek. Her stomach flipped as his fingers pressed against the cleft of her buttocks. Meg squirmed, trying to inch her thighs apart enough for Lucifer to reach between them. It made sense. She may have denied him his angelic companion, but she could soothe his loneliness with her body. The buzzing in Meg's stomach blossomed and crept downward. It met with the tingling that flared through Meg's thighs each time Lucifer brought his hand down. He pressed testingly, pushing the prominent seam against Meg's increasingly sensitive sex, then puled his hand back and hit her again.

"Terrible, really," Lucifer murmured. "Coming so close to something you want only to have it snatched away at the last second." He slid his hand between Meg's thighs and squeezed roughly. "You can go."

Meg's legs trembled as she stood. She stared at Lucifer dumbstruck for several moments before nodding and walking away. Her jeans felt too tight against the throb of arousal, and Meg was certain everyone she passed in the hall could tell her want from the blaze on her cheeks. She tried to look calm and purposeful as she walked, but the second she reached her room, she locked the door and kicked the constricting garment off. Meg lay across the couch and pulled her panties off as well. They were wet to soaked through, and a testing finger found Meg slick and hot. 

Perhaps Lucifer wouldn't want her to touch herself. Desire might be part of her punishment, but just the memory of Lucifer bending her over his knee and spanking her made Meg shiver. Her fingers began to move, circling her clit before searching further down. Meg imagined how Lucifer would line himself up as she rubbed two fingers against her slick opening. Would he tease her, or would he just shove himself in? Her own impatience made her choose the latter. He was angry, she thought, and he'd have been rough. Meg thrust her fingers in and out, the heel of her palm hitting her clit like Lucifer's body might have. He liked to touch, she knew now, liked to squeeze and grope the soft parts of her body, so Meg reached one hand under her shirt and massaged her own breast like Lucifer would. She pinched her nipple, twisting it to relish the pain. 

"Punish me," Meg whimpered. She squeezed her breast until her nails dug into her skin then pulled her fingers from her hole only to slam them in harder the next time. "Harder. Make it hurt. I need..."

Meg held her breath, but her chest heaved. She could hear the sound of her own wetness, her hand hitting her body faster and faster as she started to tense. Would Lucifer moan as he came? Meg tried to imagine the sound, but the only cry of pleasure she heard was her own. Her thighs shook and clamped together, and her hips bucked as she spasmed around her own fingers. 

Meg lay for a long time, her backside still burning. The desire passed without feeing sated. It wasn't an orgasm Meg wanted. It was Lucifer. She saw him that evening when he sent for his drink, and she made sure to be clean and composed when she brought it in. Lucifer smiled at her, his eyes moving over her body in a way that let her know he knew. She could feel his hands on her again, and she ached to throw herself at his mercy and beg for more punishment. Instead, Meg retreated to her room and whispered Lucifer's name while she worked herself to another underwhelming spasm. He'd have to forgive her someday, and then... Meg could wait.


End file.
